


A Design For Life

by Aris



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Multi, References to Drugs, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2186574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris/pseuds/Aris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/22393.html?thread=132479097#t132479097">[prompt]</a>. The one where John rejects Sherlock, and Sherlock falls into a depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Design For Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the linked prompt, but I won't post to the prompt til I'm finished/satisfied. I've never written for the Sherlock fandom before because I don't feel ~smart~ enough, so sorry if it really sucks. This whole thing will be short, but the next chapter should be longer. Thanks so much if you spend any time reading. [[tumblr](http://norsed.tumblr.com)]

"No,"

Sherlock's heart stops.

John is shaking his head back and forth, as if trying to shoo a fly from his face, but the slightly parted lips and scrunched up brow speak volumes of his real emotion. His hands, well calloused and usually so loving are scrunched into fists at his sides, blunt, flat nails digging into skin in what Sherlock can calculate is anger, disbelief, resentment. These were not the expected results - the restaurant had been an unfamiliar factor, yes, and the appearance of this woman (middle aged, only child, cat lover, linguistic) certainly tipped the scales against Sherlock's favour - but the main part of the equation, the thing in which it all relied on was - well.

John's unconditional love.

A love which, suddenly, seemed rather conditional.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, I..." John's hand scrambled for his walking stick propped at the side of his chair, a source of comfort, "You bloody... you can't just - no." He doesn't meet Sherlock's eyes, staring hard at the table while his words stumble out in short, jarring bursts. The woman across from him reaches her hand out, gently placing it upon his in a sickeningly familiar way, as if she's done it many times before. For a moment, Sherlock is filled with an inexplicable hatred, so strong is flashes across his vision in bloody red, before it abruptly disappears, leaving a feeling of vulnerable elevation it's its wake, one which was reminiscent of nights on the street, eyes half lidded and movements disorientated. 

"John, is that..." and John's hand twitches, flipping over and tangling itself with hers. His shoulders are shaking. Sherlock doesn't know what to _say_ , doesn't know how to react to this outcome - he did not plan for this, did not consider this an option. He expected happiness, joy, _love_ and now...

"Just leave, Sherlock." He doesn't move, frozen at the command. Why? Why did John want him to leave? He must have insufficient data, must have gotten something wrong in his calculations, there must be... but no, no, it was all right. He's always right, and now he can't think, can't conclude _why_ \- "Sherlock, you bloody git, for once in your life listen to someone other than yourself and LEAVE!" John half yells it, and the people at the tables around them pause in their conversation to turn to the spectacle, nearby waiters shooting each other anxious looks, unsure if they should intrude or not. Sherlock twitches at the harsh tone to his voice more than the words themselves, but the intent has never been clearer. Go. Leave. But he can't move, can't make himself leave John, not after all this. He doesn't _understand_ , doesn't _compute_. John has always been _home, friendship, warm, -_

"I think you should leave, Sherlock." The woman is staring straight at him with piercing blue eyes and it hits Sherlock, who she is. Partner, girlfriend, significant other and she is with John, is on a _date_ with John, and there's a _ring_ and - and -

He's moved on. Without Sherlock, John moved on. He didn't wait, why would he wait, what a ridiculous notion, and he found someone else. And she's good for him, she's normal and average and she can understand John in ways Sherlock would never be able to, and John wouldn't have to put up with late night violins and gun holes in the walls and dry skulls on the fireplace. 

And someone is asking him to leave, not John, not the woman, and he lets them take his arms, lets them lead him away and all he can think about is John, one hand held and the other grasping at a walking stick, and those kind kind eyes boring into the table. 

_Just leave_ and he does, and it hurts.


End file.
